


but our voices collide with each howl of the tide, singing all hell and its fire waits for us

by DesertPersephone



Series: i'll keep the duke, keep him safe [2]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, And a discipline kink, Body Hair, Body Worship, Bondage, But just a little, Charles has a Praise Kink, Cock Rings, Cunnilingus, Edging, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Henry shows up for like a BRIEF moment at the end, Internalized Homophobia, Large Breasts, Large Cock, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Marathon Sex, Morning After, Oral Sex, Pegging, Period Accurate Clothing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Teasing, Tudor Era, abuse of religious imagery, corsets, period typical attitudes toward homosexuality, sex in the court of Henry VIII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertPersephone/pseuds/DesertPersephone
Summary: The Duke of Suffolk has the weight of a King on his shoulders, a weight that sometimes requires him to stake his heart and soul at the mouth of damnation. But behind closed doors, he kind find release and peace and acceptance. Even if it's at the end of paddle, the mouth of a cunt, and the head of a fake cock.second in a series but also a completely standalone fic~this is literally just a pegging Henry Cavill fic with a lot of other stuff packed in as well
Relationships: Charles Brandon/Eleanor Lovell, Charles Brandon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: i'll keep the duke, keep him safe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621384
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	but our voices collide with each howl of the tide, singing all hell and its fire waits for us

**Author's Note:**

> sooooooo, we're back. Eleanor has returned to give Charles some much needed attention and affection, and also she brought a dildo so,,,,,
> 
> This was a combination of like three prompts i got from friends; bondage, spanking and pegging. and then it turned into like 6000+ words of filth and fluff and me rambling about a) how pretty henry cavill is and b) how much i would like to comfort charles brandon
> 
> some costume notes: a coif is a kind of headdress women in the Tudor era wore, and stays were the 16th century version of a corset  
> title is again taken from King but The Amazing

“Oh… fu _ck_!”

His legs were shaking, the muscles in his thighs quivering with each strike that came down onto his arse, sweat beading on his shoulders and back, in the bends of his knees while his chest was pressed to the bed, arms pulled up and spread above his head, secured to the headboard with a long length of silk. His legs were spread in a similar fashion, given just enough slack to allow him to bend and press his knees into the mattress. The firm spanks to his pearly white arse had toned it a wonderful red color, like the roses in the gardens, like the color the ladies in court painted their mouths. The stains of red were tinged pink at the edges while the middle was almost threatening to turn purple as she brought the paddle down again. It was truly a sight to see, the large and quiet Charles Brandon, a man who was intimidating in his size and stature, a man who had been to war, who had killed, stretched out and _begging_ to be spanked like a naughty schoolboy. Eleanor couldn’t think of something she would rather commit to canvas then this. Well, perhaps the way she was sure he would look at the end of their night.

When she had learnt of Charles’ penchant for being disciplined, it had opened a vulnerability in Charles to her and she basked in it. It was far from every night that Charles bared his arse for her to strike rosy with her hand or a switch or a paddle, but when he did, it tended to give her the tiniest glimpse into his rather guarded set of emotions. And since he had returned to Court with her in company, those nights seamed to become more and more common. Eleanor would never blame the King, or Charles’ wife, to anyone’s face, but she knew it was them that made Charles feel so belittled, inconsequential, and frustrated that he needed her to physically beat it out of him.

“Shh, love, you’re alright.” Eleanor was perched on the bed with him, practically lounging next to him in her chemise. “You’re alright, you’re doing so good.” She smiled, carding her fingers through his hair, damp with sweat, and down his back, hand light and gentle as she caressed his muscles leading down to his arse.

“Do you want me to keep going?” She asked, laying her head down next to him to search his face, flushed and sweaty, and when he opened his eyes, his pupils were so wide the black had eaten away at the color around them. Eleanor stroked his hair again as he processed her words, assessed the aches in his shoulders and in his hips. And in his cock. Good _Lord_ his cock was aching.

Finally, he responded with a shale of his head and Eleanor nodded, leaning in to kiss his pliant mouth. The kiss was gentle and soft, almost chaste in some way. She sat back up and reached out to release the silk tie on the wrist closest to her. His arm fell the short distance to the bed with a thud and she place a gentle kiss to the tired limb before sliding off the bed and releasing his other limbs. Charles groaned, rolling halfway onto his side, revealing the angry and impossibly hard cock between his legs. They had tied a purple ribbon around the base before started, to keep him from coming too soon and his erection was flushed almost the same of the ribbon, leaking a puddle between his stomach and the bedding. Returning to the bed, Eleanor had a goblet of water for him, and she helped him sit up, seating herself behind him. Passing the cup to Charles, upon which his grip was firm and steady, Eleanor hid her smiled against his shoulder while he drank. He wasn’t as worn out as she had feared, which was good, because she had far more planned for the evening.

She pressed another kiss to his shoulder, hands running over his chest as he relaxed against her, fingers moving through his chest hair and then dipping over his stomach, teasing his navel and eliciting a laugh before drifting to his cock. She wrapped her hand around the girth of him, and gave him a few gentle strokes, nothing nearly enough to bring him off, just release some of the pressure.

Charles moaned softly and leaned his head back against her; a smile pulled at his lips, parting to let the tiny sounds of pleasure leave him.

“I have something planned for you.” She murmured, lips on his earlobe for a kiss. “It’s special, came all the way from France.”

Lifting his head just enough to look at her, Charles cocked an eyebrow, lifting a hand to card through her hair. “Is it what I think it is?” He asked, cheeks flushing with the anticipation of it. They had discussed this, fleetingly, and while Charles had thought it would go farther then him admitting a curiosity, he couldn’t say he was disappointed that it hadn’t stopped there.

“Maybe.” She grinned as an answer, before reaching down to tug the ribbon loose from around his cock. Charles gave a little sigh of relief as the scrap of trimming was dropped to the bedding, soon to be lost and forgotten.

“But first, Your Grace,” his cock gave a little jerk at the honorific. “I think you need to _earn_ it.”

Charles growled as he turned in her arms, crowding her back against the headboard with a kiss. He gripped one of her thighs with a strong hand as the other pulled the strings of her shift open, eagerly tugging the fabric down to explore one of her breasts. Yes, it was definitely her tits that had drawn his attention to her on their first meeting. Kissing his way down her chin, jaw, and throat, Charles paused to smooch the fading love bite on her collarbone before continuing to lavish kisses over her chest, to the very top of the valley between her breasts and over to attend the tit exposed to the flickering firelight. Her chest tasted slightly of sweat, their room was warm but neither find the words to complain about it, not when they were so busy attending to each other like this. Charles’ mouth, skilled at quiet negotiation and bargaining, was also so skilled in bed, lips velvet soft and strong as he placed open mouth kisses to her breast, unable to help himself from sucking a new mark to the delicate skin just above her nipple. He took that rosy bud in his mouth soon after, hand cupping the bottom of her tit.

Eleanor’s fingers curled into the length at the back of his head, tugging softly as she arched into his mouth. He laved his tongue over her nipple, sucking slightly before kissing down underneath her breast where his hand had been, pressing one kiss to the freckle under the ample fullness of her tit. Looking up at her, Charles grinned, teeth flashing in the dim light before he dipped his head to mark the flesh on the side of her breast. Her skin smelled of the soap and perfume he had bought her from France, like roses, honey, and figs. Good enough to _eat_. He pressed his nose to her skin to breathe her in before sitting back, making himself comfortable between her legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his broad shoulders. He hooked her knees over his shoulders as he knelt between her thighs, shift bunched up around her hips, the fold of fabric creating a tent for him to duck his head under when Charles started to kiss her thighs. His hands caressed the soft skin of her hips and then down to her arse, teeth ghosting over the insides of her thighs, starting at the fold of her knee and moving up, growing ever closer to her cunt. She made a soft noise at the feeling of him spreading her labia, his tongue darting out to collect the flavor of her cunt.

“Fuck…” She whispered, head falling back against the headboard with a little sigh. His beard was rough on the delicate skin of her cunt, and she was not only certain that she would _probably_ end up with beard burn, but that Charles would make sure of it. It was some kind of excitement for him, to mark her, to let everyone know not only was she his, but that they shared endlessly good nights together. His silent (and not so silent) bragging always flushed her cheeks when they were anywhere but their apartments, and it often resulted in her scolding him in some manner, either silent or not.

But, at the same time, Eleanor was positive he would have bruises on his arse in the morning and that did give her the same time of little thrill.

Chuckling softly, Eleanor let her eyes fall shut as his tongue flicked out to tease the tip of her clit. It was always a featherlight touch, gentle and teasing, that same sort of touch Charles gave her when he brushed a stray piece of hair away and tucked it back under her coif in the halls, or when his fingertips brushed her knuckles when they danced, when his hand settled on her back as they walked through the halls, when his gaze softened at the first sight of her in the morning, or when his lips claimed the last kiss before sleep… It was gentle and full of love, touches that spoke far more or far louder than any words could.

He kissed her cunt again, open mouthed and eager before sucked her clit in between his lips, nose pressed to the curly hairs on her mound. She smelled just purely of herself down here, no perfumes or scents to cover up the warm, welcoming smell of her skin and cunt. Charles groaned a little as he collected her wetness on his tongue and he was convinced there was nothing better than the taste of her, sweet and sour and better than any pie they served at court. It was common for Charles and the other men, after a few rounds of drinks and cards, to tell bawdy stories about their love lives, and it always amazing Charles when the other men stated that they refused to go down on their wives and mistresses. In his opinion, there was nothing better then kissing cunt.

His tongue returned to her clit, flicking over it before relenting and taking the sensitive bud back into his mouth, lips closing around it. He used his teeth lightly and Eleanor gasped, hand pressing against the covered shape of his head, pushing his face into her cunt. The hand not holding her folds open, snaked up to palm at her breast, squeezing gently, palm rubbing over her nipple. Charles hollowed his cheeks as he sucked on her, the tip of his tongue flicking over her clit, occasionally catching under the hood. It made her clench and moan, and Good Lord, he could stay between her legs forever. But he could hear the way her breath was growing shallow and high pitched, and he could feel the way her fingers tangled in his hair, having pulled her shift up out of the way, nails dragging over his scalp. Eleanor’s hips bucked up against his face, calves clenching against his back as the heat in her belly grew almost unbearable, hot and intense as Charles tweaked her nipple. He looked up, eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of her in front of him, arching into his mouth and his hand, eyes shut and practically glowing in her pleasure, the opening of her mouth softly. He watched as her brow tightened, her mouth fell open fully and her head fell farther back, stretching the column of her throat out in ecstasy. Her body tightened, toes curling, and Charles grinned against her throbbing cunt.

“Oh! Charles!” Her voice was high and breathy, teeth gritting and biting off the moan that followed his name, hips convulsing into his mouth. A gush of wetness left her and finally her body relaxed, breathing heavy and loud as she slumped back, sweat starting to prick at the skin in the glorious creases of flesh at her sides. Charles gave her a couple extra licks, loving the way she twitched before he pulled back. Eleanor was still fighting to get her breath back, untangling her hand from his hair to run it over her forehead, drifting to gently cup her throat, feeling her pulse pound under her fingerstips as it slowly returned to normal. Watching her for a moment, Charles wiped his wet mouth on his hand and reached for the goblet of water he had abandoned on the side table.

“Here.” He said, voice adopting that soft tone he used around children and horses and her after sex. He brought the goblet to her lips and helped her drink before he set it aside and caught her mouth with his own. He tasted of her cunt still and Eleanor was far too tired and boneless to care, ringed fingers coming up to cup his face.

“Mmm… I think you definitely earned the rest of the night.” Eleanor laughed as she ran her hands over his face, tucking back the unruly curls from his forehead, fingertips tracing the shape of his mouth. Charles grinned and moved to sit against the headboard with her, taking her hand in his. His erection had flagged, no longer so flushed and angry, and it rested against the seam of his thigh and groin.

“We… we don’t have to, you know – “ he gave a little lift of his eyebrows, “If you’re too tired.” But there was something else in his voice that made Eleanor squeeze his hand and turn to face him.

“Love… do you not want to? It’s alright if you don’t,” she gave him a reassuring smile and nod, a tiny dip of her chin. “Really, it’s okay.”

Charles sighed heavily and the grip on her hand tightened. He let his head fall back against the headboard, looking away from her as he spoke. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just…” He gave a little chuckle. “I’m nervous.”

Meeting her eyes, there was a softness in his expression, an honesty. This wasn’t the Duke of Suffolk, military commander, confidant, friend and head of damage control to the King of England. This was Charles Brandon, a man with the weight of a king, death, and thousands of mistakes on his shoulders. This was the real Charles Brandon, not exactly free from sin, but an innocent all the same. This was Charles Brandon with his stiff hip and his strained-glass eyes and his horrible morning breath that he insisted on kissing her with anyway. This was Charles Brandon who was afraid of countless things, but shut it all away as best he could to be a good father, a good lover, and a loyal subject.

“Do you trust me?” Eleanor asked, moving to straddle his hips, fingers coaxing through the hair along his jaw, over his throat and down his chest.

“Of course.” He nodded “With my life.” He took one of her hands and kissed the fingertips. Fingertips that would soon be sunk inside of him. He bit one of her knuckles and laughed, body already starting to get excited again at the prospect of what was to come, a response that Eleanor did not miss as his cock gave a little twitch against her thigh.

“Is that a ‘yes’ then?” She arched an eyebrow, leaning in for a quick peck against the corner of his mouth “We really don’t have to, love, if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, I want to. I do.” He nodded, hands coming around to grip her by the thighs and quickly moving to push Eleanor onto her back, into the bedding, crowding over her. Eleanor let out a little “oof!” and a string of giggles, holding his face as they kissed.

“Since you’re so eager, I hate to be the bearer of ill news, but _I’m_ supposed to be on top.” Eleanor couldn’t help the comment, she was just as eager as Charles seemed to be, this was, of course, something _she_ had been planning for months. It had started as a fairly innocent bit of pillow talk after they had been stated in their pleasure one night. Eleanor had rolled off of Charles, sprawling out next to him while they caught their breath, when she had noticed the look of contemplation on Charles’ face. Of course, she had rolled to face him, putting a hand on his chest and touching his cheek, asking what had him so far away from their bed. Charles had given her a half-hearted answer, a shrug that might have satisfied his wife, but Eleanor dismissed it with an eyebrow. He turned to face her as well, taking her hand in his.

“When I’m… inside you,” He swallowed, making his Adam’s apple very apparent for a moment. He seemed a little lost for words and his eyes searched her face as if they lay there in the curve of her mouth or the shadow of her eyelashes. Finally, he said, “Does it feel good?”

Eleanor couldn’t help the little smile and laugh, brows furrowing a little as she answered. “Of course, it does! Its wonderful.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Is that all?”

Charles hesitated.

“Well, no…” He gave a weak laugh, reaching up to rub his eyes. He was… nervous. Which wasn’t something Eleanor thought she had ever seen before, not even when he had inquired about her maidenhead. “I was just… I was thinking – I’ve always been curious about – and if there was some way you could – " Charles cut himself off and shook his head as slow realization dawned on Eleanor’s face.

“Do you… Are you asking me to…” It was her turn to blush now, “To fuck you?”

Charles’ cheeks were flushed, and he sat up to cover his face with his hands, hot shame seeming to radiate from him. “Listen, I’m not – I’m not a _sodomite_.” He practically whispered the last word.

“Charles, Charles, I know.” Eleanor was quick to sit up with him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and taking one of his hands. “You’re curious, and I don’t blame you. Apparently it’s quite… quite enjoyable for a man.” She kissed the back of his hand gently. “I could care less about your.. curiosities and preferences in bed… as long as I’m included in them.”

They had sealed the night with a kiss and fallen asleep, Charles with his broad arm around her middle. The idea had then entered their bedchamber a few times after that, starting as the thought that if Charles could finger her cunt as well as fuck it, then what was stopping them from doing the same to his arse? The first time had been a near disaster, Charles couldn’t relax enough, and the night ended in much frustration and cursing. But it had not dissuaded them and after a few _very_ subtle inquiries with the other women (and a certain musician) in the Hall, Eleanor managed to bring him a great deal of pleasure with just her fingers. And it had been absolutely intoxicating, like the perfume of summer roses and honey wine on her tongue. It made her hungry for more.

Tonight, though, tonight was a lot more then just a couple of her slender fingers inside him.

She nudged Charles’ shoulder and he easily rolled off of her, onto his back. His legs fell open almost immediately, putting himself on display, all unruly dark hair and a pair of heavy balls, revealing the delicate and sensitive skin behind his sac. Eleanor smiled, nervous and tentative, before helping him slide a plush pillow under his hips, hands running over the sharp bones in soothing circles. Her hands ran down, over the meat of his thick thighs, squeezing the strong muscles eagerly. The idea of having those legs wrapped around her, the same way she wrapped hers around him? It sent a spike of arousal through her.

As she got off the bed, dropping her shift to the floor, and she went to search through one of the side table for a wooden box, Charles took the time to appreciate the curve of her arse, soft and round and pale like the moon, perfect for playful little smacks or more meaningful bites. His eyes drifted up the small of her back, dipped gently into her body, and his hand drifted lower to wrap around his cock. He started stroking himself slowly, mind wandering to the various curves and dips of flesh he so appreciated on Eleanor with each slow drag of his hand from rot to tip and back, foreskin sliding easily over his cockhead, thumb brushing under the tip. His arousal was starting to build to an ache in his belly and balls. Good Lord, they had been at this for a while now, and he hadn’t spilt once, making him almost hyperaware of his testicles (as if he wasn’t always hyperaware of his testicles). His body would have been content with him just spilling right there as he watched Eleanor gather up the dark curls from her back, giving him a view of the pale column of her throat, and carefully slide her rings off. Charles let out a soft sigh and folding his other arm behind his head as a pillow as her watched her turn and close the distance and returned to the bed with a glass vial filled, he knew, with oil.

“What are you doing?” Eleanor asked, her voice filled with a falsely accusatory tone, raising her eyebrows in that way that Charles loved.

“Nothing.” He grinned up at her as he continued to stroke himself, his expression akin to a youth caught in the kitchens feasting on a sweet not yet served to the rest of the house.

“If you spill early, that’s going to be entirely your fault.” She scolded him as she climbed back onto the bed and batted his hand away from his cock. Charles pouted for a brief moment, the strangest of expression for his wide jaw, heavy forehead, and thick trimming of facial whiskers. But it didn’t last and soon he was spreading his leg for her again, grunting a little when his hip didn’t want to move, and Eleanor’s hand was there to massage the stiff joint until it relaxed.

Crawling between his legs, Eleanor shifted Charles just a bit more before she uncorked the bottle and spilled a generous amount of oil onto her fingers. She dipped her head down to give his knee a kiss as she rubbed the slick pads of her fingers over the tight pucker of his hole.

“Relax, love.” She whispered, the fingers of her other hand dragging gently over his thigh. Charles made a soft, very noncommittal noise before he shut his eyes and took a deep steadying breath. Gently, Eleanor applied a tender pressure to ease her first finger inside the Duke, muttering a hushed praise as he groaned and relaxed farther. He clenched around her fingers as it slipped past the tight ring of muscle, letting out a tiny satisfied sigh as she started to carefully move that finger, a slow in and out slide. She was careful and gentle, letting him grow used to the intrusion before adding her second finger.

“Fu _ck_ …” Charles whispered, tongue poking out to wet his lips as his hand closed around his cock again, tugging on the fat shaft with no intent besides ceasing some of the pressure in his gut. Eleanor took her time, remembering that this wasn’t just a fun bit of fingerings to bring Charles off, this had a purpose and a was far from the main event. She was careful to avoid that spot inside him that seemed to make him see stars, only giving it tangential brushes with the side of her finger every now and then. She pressed kisses to his knees and thighs as she worked him open, glancing back to the wooden box once or twice as if picturing what was held inside before turning her attention back to Charles’ hole, greedily stretched around three of her fingers now. The act of pleasing him like this gave her little physical attention or release, but she could not help the mental stimulation it offered. Her lover, stretched out in bed and panting or begging to be filled by her? That made the heat in her belly return and she could understand why Charles loved his own cock so much.

“Are you ready, love?” Eleanor blessed his belly with a kiss, as she looked up at him. His cock rubbed her cheek before she sat up, curling her fingers a little as she pulled them from his body, careful and slow. “You feel ready for me, loose and wanting.”

Charles keened, actually keened, low and deep in his chest as he nodded, opening his eyes to meet hers. He looked utterly wrecked, pupils almost eating the whole of his irises, cheeks flushed high with color, and lips swollen from his teeth worrying at them.

“Please, Eleanor. I – I need you.” He murmured, hands reaching for her waist, bringing her close for a moment to share in a needy kiss before she was climbing off the bed again, returning to the box. It would take her a moment to prepare, a moment Charles needed so he didn’t spill himself as soon as she entered him. Standing at the table, Eleanor skimmed her fingers over the wooden box before picking up the folded bundle next to it. In the bundle was two things, a new finely embroidered set of stays and a comfortably padded leather harness. She had both custom made just for Charles, the stays had been made here in London, decorated with embroidery and painted by Eleanor herself to depict a cornucopia of various erotic fruits and flowers. The harness had also been made in London, and she had payed handsomely for it, something Charles’ wife would be mortified to find out about. In fact, she would be mortified at the whole situation. But then, it had been her decision to leave him.

Eleanor picked up the stays, gently sliding the garment on over her bare skin, until it settled and she returned to the edge of the bed. Charles had regained his composure slightly, enough to sit up and thread the lacing through delicate hand-bound holes for her, place gentle kisses on her back as he went until the garment was lace and tightened just enough. She returned to the table and kept her back to him, despite being able to hear the tell tale sounds of him stroking himself again, the soft breathes and slick noise of his hand on his cock. She smiled softly as she stepped into the harness, carefully dragging it up her legs. It had a strap that circled her waist and then delved between her legs, to split and run under the curves of her arse, making the flat triangular pad in the front sit snuggly against her mound once the straps were tightened. The harness felt strangely warm, almost like it had body heat of its own, but such was the character of leather. The straps hugged her and Eleanor drifted her fingers over the leather, over her own body, caressing her curves in a manner that Charles never hesitated to, but she had never really done herself. It was strangely… erotic like this and she enjoyed the feeling immensely. Feeling herself beginning to grow wet again, Eleanor opened the wooden box and withdrew the _item_ it housed. This she had ordered from France. It was a replica cock, made from a wooden form, padded and then covered in finely molded leather. It was a modest size, enough to give Charles something to feel but not enough to hurt him. The base was flared just slightly to comfortably sit in the metal ring at the front of the harness. Eleanor slipped the phallus through the ring and readjusted the harness to ensure that nothing would slip before taking a steadying breath.

What if she looked silly? What if this was some horrible idea and Charles was repulsed by the sight of her with a cock instead of aroused?

“Let me see you.” His rough voice broke through her haze of insecurities and Eleanor turned slowly on the spot; hands pressed against the table behind her for support. Her gaze was fixed on the bedpost instead of on Charles. At least until she heard his intake of breath and she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“My lady…” He whispered, sitting up on his knees. “Come here, let me inspect you closer.” Eleanor gave a tiny laugh as she closed the distance between them, letting Charles reach for her, fingers dragging over her stiffened waist and then down to run over the leather cock. The stays worked to flatten her curves and press her breasts up, a sight Charles could hardly resist, especially now as he dipped calloused fingers lower to her cunt and his mouth pressed hot kisses to the flesh spilling from the top of her stays. His fingers dipped inside her folds, gathering the wetness that had started to accumulate there again, spreading it over her clit. Eleanor moaned softly, hand resting on his waist before Charles was gone, returned to his prone position on the bed.

“Please, Eleanor.” He whispered, opening his legs for her like a wanton whore, the sound of his weakened voice reverbing in her heart as she climbed onto the bed between his legs, the phallus bouncing slightly. She found a home between his thighs, Charles adjusting the pillow under his hips to give her the best angle before letting his head fall back against the finery of the bed. His throat worked as he swallowed a desperate breath and Eleanor poured their oil over the leather tip, spreading it over the shaft of her new cock before moving forward. His legs parted even wider and the sight of his flushed and prepared arsehole made her heart flutter a little before she was guiding the head of _her cock_ to nudge against it. Slowly, she tipped her hips forward, the head slipping easily inside of him. Charles gave a moan filled with the purest sort of pleasure possible, head tipping even farther back into the bed as his back arched forward. The phallus was curved slightly upwards, as opposed to Charles’ cock that was curved slightly sideways, and as Eleanor slid father into him, his fingers tightened on her thighs and when she nudged that pleasure node inside him, he cried out. Charles’ stomach quivered and tensed as she sunk all the way into him, knees digging into the bed. Eleanor leaned over him, watching as emotions flashed over his face, brow knitted tightly, mouth parted, his body growing used to the feeling of being so filled and stretched. While she couldn’t feel his body around the cock, she could see the way he slowly relaxed until finally giving her a little nod. Eleanor pressed a gentle kiss to his slack mouth and sat up to begin a shallow and gentle roll of her hips. Each drag out and push back in earned a quiet sound from Charles, nothing like he had ever made before in bed, like his breath had been stolen away and it was… glorious. The way his voice seemed to crack and break anew with each slow slide, growing louder as she became more comfortable with the movement of her hips and found a rhythm that bumped that glorious place inside him almost constantly. Charles was convinced, with each ripple of pleasure that echoed through him, that this was what seeing God must be akin to. He was only vaguely religious in upbringing and not one to pretend he knew anything of the Holy Father or the gospels, but this… could there be anything more glorious then this? Surely not. Surely this was Heaven on Earth.

His cock was leaking profusely against his stomach by now, drooling over the hard planes of muscle as he drew closer to what he was sure was either going to be life eternal or death and damnation. If _this_ would damn his soul, and not the thousands of innocents he had been forced to kill, then let it be. Let it be. Charles reached for Eleanor’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he looked up at her face. She was beautiful, moving over him like this. A few strands of hair had escaped the bun at the back of her head to hang freely around her face and she was breathing heavier now, with the exertion of moving in and out of him, sweat beading on her temples and upper lip, glowing from the firelight behind her. She had to be an angel, there could be no other explanation for the beauty he was witnessing.

“I wish –” His voice sounded so wretched, hoarse and throaty, “I wish I could commission a portrait of you – like this.” Eleanor laughed, just a breathless as him, grinning.

“You would have to find a very open-minded painter.” She teased, quickly adding to her statement when she saw the twinkle of mischief in his eyes, “ _Not_ my father.”

Charles echoed her breathless laugh, the noise coming out far higher than usual, before being swallowed up by a moan. He looked just like he sounded, his hair splayed out around his head like a dark halo, mouth wet and red, swollen, kiss bitten, his cheeks flushed and sweat upon his brow. And Eleanor realized with a start, he was looking at her like she was the most glorious creature in Heaven and Earth and Hell all combined. She swallowed and gave another tiny chuckle, dipping her face away to avoid the intensity of his gaze, eye tracing the long lines of his throat, shoulders and chest, leading down to the arch of his aching cock, tip kissing his stomach, flushed and hard from being neglected as the night wore on. She watched as pre wept from him and his stomach clenched. His free hand drifted down to press flat against his stomach just above the base of his cock, groaning as his eyes drifted shut and the tendons of his neck stood out for a brief moment before his stomach tensed again, his body overtaken by a fairly sudden orgasm. He canted his hips up into her thrusts, cock spilling out a small amount of seed while his voice echoed through the room.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop, _please_.”

Eleanor picked the pace she had lost in surprise at his climax, hands digging into his hips to fuck into him a little harder, a little rougher.

There was still a building pressure in Charles’ body, the sensation of being so full and fucked driving him on, hand fisting in the bedding as the pressure built and built until finally snapping. He cried out, rough and guttural, cock jumping twice and spilling more seed as far as his throat and chin before his pleasure ease and he wept out the last of his load onto his stomach, seed pooling in his navel with the evidence of his first orgasm.

His breath came fast and hash as he tried to regain it, wincing as Eleanor eased the leather phallus from him. Charles felt like he was seeing stars and blinked rapidly to clear his vision, before he relented and just closed his eyes to wait for his body to calm itself from what it had just experienced.

When he opened his eyes again, Eleanor was in her shift and by his side with a wet cloth, cleaning his stomach. She gave him a smile, and met his mouth for a kiss, brushing stray curls away from his face.

“You have spend in your beard.” She chuckled, his hand finding a place on her thigh as he gave an exhausted little chuckle. The wet cloth ran through the whiskers on his jaw and chin before it traveled down his neck and chest to clean his soft cock and pubic hair, dipping even lower to wipe away any remaining oil. He felt so relaxed, so sated, so… ready to sleep for the next three days as the cloth was abandoned on the nightstand and Eleanor helped him sit up to slide him into his sleep shirt, the pillow under his hips abandoned over the side of the bed. Laying back into the other pillows at the top of the bed, Eleanor pulled the blanket folded at the foot over them, her head finding its place on his chest and his arm curling around her shoulder. Charles sighed one last time, content for the night.

*

As much as Charles had wished to spend at least the next forty and eight hours in bed, that was far from reality and all too soon he found himself hobbling through the halls of Winsor to the King’s chambers. His presence, apparently, had been requested by Henry to share their morning meal together, even though Charles would have been much happier breaking his nighttime fast with Eleanor instead. As he went along, he hoped dearly that he was not limping as much as he felt like he was and that any strange step in his gait would be attributed to his stiff hip and not raise suspension of what he had been up to the night before.

Attending Henry’s chambers, his presence was announced by the groom and he found his King already at the table, a feast laid out before him. The King was also still in his night shirt while Charles had dressed completely.

“Majesty,” He inclined his head in greeting, hands clasped behind his back,

“Charles! Come, sit,” Henry motioned to a spare chair and Charles groaned internally. “I had the strangest dream last night, I wish to tell you of it.”

Charles pretended to be interested as he pulled the chair out and slowly lowered himself into it. Between the bruises and the fucking, his arse felt like it was on fire and his fingers _dug_ into the arms of the chair as he sat, grimacing once seated.

“Are you alright?” Henry seemed concerned and Charles prayed he didn’t flush as he shook his head, reaching for the goblet of wine next to his plate.

“Perfectly fine, Majesty.” He said with a nod, “I just took a spill off my horse yesterday.” He sipped from the cup and Henry made a noise.

“You ride that bay filly don’t you?”

Charles gave a nod, wincing again as he shifted in his seat.

“Hmmm, fillies are fickle,” Henry mused, attention turning back to his food for a moment. “They do have a tendency to ride their owners if not careful, don’t they?”

Charles smiled a little, thinking of Eleanor’s hair, dark and rich and glowing in the firelight.

“Yes, Majesty, they do.”

**Author's Note:**

> wow props to you if you got through that i promise the next one won't be as long (probably). i have a few more ideas for these two but if there's something you want to see lemme know!!
> 
> leave a comment or a kudo, they keep me alive.


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